


Don't Let Go

by jaron5



Category: Joseph: King of Dreams (2000)
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:22:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28861017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaron5/pseuds/jaron5
Summary: This is the second time I watched Joseph: King of Dreams. It is also the third time I cried. There's something about this movie that fills me with so much emotion... and I decided to try and put down that emotion into words.This is Joseph's point of view after he sees his brothers again and some additional scenes.
Relationships: Joseph and Benjamin, Joseph and Judah, Joseph and Simeon, Joseph and his Brothers, Joseph/Asenath, Joseph/Narrator
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Don't Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> When it's italicized with quotes it means they are past quotes being dug up from Joseph's memories with his brothers when they were young. When it's just italicized, those are Joseph's present thoughts in first-person. When there are whole paragraphs italicized, they are memories. 
> 
> Sorry in advance if it's a little confusing! I hope I cleared it up.

“Here you go.”

Joseph’s eyes grow wide when he recognizes the man standing just a few feet away from him. He suddenly feels faint, his head spinning. Dizzy, he stumbles away, shaking his head. _Judah._

He never thought he’d see them again. Joseph put’s a hand to his forehead, his other hand reaching out to pull off his white headcloth from his head. To support himself from falling down onto the dirt in shock, he reaches for one of the barrels to support him. 

“Joseph, what’s wrong?” Asenath reaches for him, her voice full of concern. He closes his eyes and turns towards her. 

“Nothing,” he says. He’s surprised at how steady his voice sounds. 

She places her hand on his face, her eyes gentle and kind. “Look at you. You’re shaking.”

“It must be the sun. I'll be fine,” he pushes her worries away and brushes past her, his head still spinning. His eyes latch on to the sight of his brothers again. 

“Please,” Judah was saying, “Our wives and children are hungry.”

His eldest brother’s voice alone is enough to fill Joseph with deep-seated rage and… some other emotions he didn’t want to name. 

Potiphar shakes his head, but Joseph knows he’ll give in. The man was too kind. “I'm sorry, but you haven't contributed your supply.”

Simeon speaks up, holding up a small pouch that is all too familiar to Joseph’s eyes. 

“We don't ask for charity,” he says, “we'll pay you with silver!” 

Joseph’s mind flashes back to the worst day of his life, seeing Simeon’s face leering back at him, his eyes full of hatred and jealousy as he stood by, an accomplice in selling his own brother away as a slave. 

“How many are you?” Potiphar asks, giving in. 

Judah speaks for them, “There are 12 of us. Ten of us here. At home, we have our father and youngest brother.”

 _Youngest brother!?_ How could they? How dare they?

“Very well,” Potiphar turns around to the suppliers for the grain, “give them-”

“Nothing!” Joseph shouts, marching out in front of them. His anger fuels him to keep his head up and glare at his so-called family. 

“Ten foreigners asking for grain, no ties to Egypt. Are you thieves, hoping to see where we store our grain? Spies? I don't know what you are, but I don't believe your story,” his hand slices through the air, his chest heaving. To the corner of his eyes, he can see Potiphar staring at him in open surprise, but Joseph ignores him, still burning with so much emotion, his body trembles with it. He hadn’t realized how much his brothers could affect him until he had caught sight of them. 

“Your Excellency,” and Joseph feels like flinching at that title coming out of Judah’s mouth. So, they do not recognize him?

“Everything we say is true!” He gets on his knees, the rest of the family following his example. “I- I swear it,” Judah puts his hands together as if that would prove Joseph of his innocence. 

“Then prove it,” he demands, lifting up his hand. “Produce _this_ youngest brother.”

Judah’s confused face stares back at him. “But why?”

“What would that prove?” Simeon adds, looking up from his bowed position. 

Joseph turns away from them. “That you're not lying. If you're telling the truth,” he shrugs, turning towards them again, “I'll let you buy all the grain you want.” 

His eyes flash with vengeance and he points a finger at Simeon, “till then, arrest this one! We'll hold him until you produce this youngest brother.” 

They all gasp, shocked murmurs filling the air. Ha, did they think it was too excessive? It was nothing, _nothing,_ compared to what they did to him. 

_"J-Judah... Why..."_

_"No! Help me! Levi, please. Issachar. Simeon. Stop them. Judah. Judah, help me, please."_

“Take him,” he orders the guards, looking away, trying to hold himself still. He trembles again, but he doesn’t think anyone notices. 

All of his brothers jump up at once, their shouts overlapping one another. 

“Stop!” Judah yells, his voice pleading and desperate, just like when Joseph was just a young boy, looking at his bigger brother in horror and then the overwhelming despair that followed as he was taken away by the slavers. 

“No!” Simeon yells back. “No! No! No!”

Joseph closes his eyes and leaves. He can feel Asenath following him hesitantly. He shakes his head when she puts a hand on his shoulder. He cannot face her now. Not when the rage still bubbles under his skin. Not when those memories are dug up again and again in mocking replay of the past. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, grabbing her hand in his palms and then letting it fall as he quickly walks away. 

His feet somehow lead him to the prison cell, the holding which had been his home for five long years. He makes sure to stand in a place where he can see his brother, pacing around, but Simeon can’t see him. 

Joseph does not know how long he stands there, lost in his thoughts, so he startles when his wife’s voice reaches him.

“Joseph,” Asenath is leaning against the slabs of rocks. “What are you doing? They're just trying to feed their families,” she says, coming to face him. 

He clenches his fists. “Their thieves,” he forces out, “here to steal our grain.” He does not know why he does not tell her the truth. A memory of Zuleika's lustful eyes on him appears to the front of his mind. The last time he spoke about his brothers was the day he was thrown in prison.

Asenath scoffs at him. “They needed food, and they were prepared to pay for it.” 

He crosses his arms and closes his eyes shut, not wanting to hear it. 

“How can you say they're thieves? They've done nothing to you.”

His eyes open, and for some reason, he feels slightly betrayed, even though he knows it is irrational. He walks away and then turns back. It’s his turn to scoff. “ _Nothing?”_ he whispers, staring into her eyes, which are growing concerned again. 

Joseph looks away again, closing his eyes, reaching for the rock for support, and puts his chin in his hands. 

“They’re my brothers,” he blurts out, and _God,_ it _hurts_. To say it out loud, to finally acknowledge it. 

“What?” Asenath gasps, her mouth falling open in surprise. 

He looks at her, suddenly wanting to fall into her embrace her and tell her everything. “They sold me. They sold me into slavery,” he glances up at the sky, at the sinking sun, brushing at his eyes as they fill with tears. 

“They took me away from my home,” his voice breaks, “I never got to say good-bye to my Mother. I never got to see my Father grow old.” 

_“Dearest Mother, beloved Father.”_

He feels Asenath take ahold of his cheek. He stares at the tears trailing down her cheeks, her eyes full of pain for him. 

“Joseph. I- I didn’t know,” and whose fault was that, he asks himself viciously.

“You're here now,” she says softly after a moment, “ you have a home, a wife who loves you, everything you could want.” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Not everything,” he says, walking towards the prison cell. Was Asenath right? What else did he want? 

_My brothers,_ he thinks. _I want them back._

But did he ever have them? He stares down at Simeon, his heart beating wildly.

_“Simeon!” Joseph yells with joy, launching himself into his brother’s arms. The older boy had been gone for a fortnight to buy some more sheep to their herd and Joseph had missed him terribly. He had missed Simeon’s wild stories and guffawing laugh and his strong arms that lifted him up and twirled Joseph around whenever he demanded to be lifted._

_“Joseph,” Simeon chuckles, hugging him tightly, placing a kiss into his curls. Joseph breathes in deeply, the strong scent of blue water lilies, the flower he liked to crush and swim in when he went for a wash. “Have you grown taller?” He gets up to check._

_Issachar scoffs from behind them. “He’s been growing at a remarkable speed. Father’s been singing his praises as he measures his height every day.”_

_Simeon’s hold on Joseph tightens for a second before he lets go entirely. “Is that so,” he smiles, allowing Joseph to take his hand and lead him into the tent where he can show Simeon some of the cloth he had sown with the help of his Mother._

_He ruffles Joseph’s hair and tells him that he did a great job and of course, he would wear one of the tunics Joseph had stitched up just for him._

Joseph’s chest tightens at the memory. Asenath stands next to him, reaching for his hand. “I thought you had learned something in that cell,” she says. “Remember when I would bring food to you?” 

He stares down at his little tree, which he still waters thrice a fortnight till this day. He remembers the crushing loneliness, despair, and then peace, with that little gift, that piece of life, growing alongside him. 

“Yes,” he whispers. “It kept me going.” 

She hugs him then, squeezing him tightly as if that could remove away all the old hurt and pain. 

“Hey!” Simeon calls up. Apparently, they had been noticed. “You won't keep me here! My brothers will come for me!”

_“If you say one word, I'll wring your skinny neck,”_ Simeon’s voice from the past echoes. 

When had that happened? When had the soft looks, the love, change into jealousy and hatred? Was he that awful of a person- that his own brothers would sell him away for some sliver pieces? Was he so undeserving of their love? 

“My brothers will come,” Simeon calls out again.

_They never came for me._

* * *

Potiphar is the one who informs him that tells him his brothers had come back. Of course, they would. Why had he ever thought they’d leave Simeon behind? 

Asenath reaches for his arm again. “Maybe they've suffered these last 20 years, as well,” she pleads. Joseph does not understand why she keeps trying. “Maybe they've changed.”

He puts his coat on, scoffing inwardly. If they had changed, why hadn’t they come looking for him? Why had they never come back? To say they regretted it, to bring him back home? They always disliked him, why would that change?

_“Joseph! Wait, wait! You have to be very careful. You might cut your hands on the soft fur.”_

“No,” he says. “I don’t think so.” 

He can hear Judah’s voice as he opens the curtains to peek out at them. “Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to,” he tells their brothers. 

“Hmm. Don't worry. It'll be all right,” Levi says back. 

Joseph decides to stop hiding and just face them and hear their lies. He pulls away from the curtains and steps down. They all quickly bow, and he remembers his dream, of all of his brothers circling around him and kneeling. 

_“Leave me alone!”_

_“Come on, Joseph. Tell us. We're dying to hear about it.”_

_“Ooh! Let's all bow down to Joseph!”_

_“Step aside, brothers. I'm the new head of the family. Bow before me, you sheaves of wheat! Oh, yes, Master Joseph, ruler of the world.”_

He pushes the unwanted memories away, feeling sick. “Welcome,” he forces a smile on his face and spreads out his arms. 

After they get up, he questions them, “You’ve done what I’ve asked?”

They part away, revealing a young boy who stares at Joseph apprehensively. 

“Our brother, Benjamin,” Judah introduces unnecessarily. 

Joseph strides towards Benjamin, eyes wide. He gapes at the boy. The resemblance is uncanny. They hadn’t been lying. Benjamin might as well have been his younger twin, with how alike they look. 

He doesn’t know what to feel. There’s too much here to process and he needs time alone to think. 

“You kept your word,” he says softly. “Bring out the other brother,” he orders and then turns back to his youngest brother.

“So, Benjamin, tell me of your Mother and Father,” he makes sure to keep his voice light, as if he were a mere high-ranking stranger questioning a foreigner. In reality, he is freaking out, because this was his _younger brother._ There was no other explanation and it was as obvious as day that they both shared the same parents. 

Benjamin’s words feel like a punch to the face. 

“My Mother is no longer alive.”

His head spins. 

_"Mama!"_

No. No, she couldn’t be… _gone_. She just couldn’t. 

“Oh,” he says faintly. He can feel Benjamin staring at him intently, concern clouding over the younger boy’s eyes. He’s the only one who could see just how suddenly pale Joseph had become. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Joseph chokes out. “And your Father?”

He almost doesn’t want to know. 

“He’s worried that I’m here.”

He wants to laugh in relief. Father was alive! He raises an eyebrow instead, trying to steady himself. He can’t afford to look weak. Not in front of them. “Why is that?”

“I’m a long way from home,” Benjamin says in reply, biting his lip. He looks so young. Just as young as Joseph was the last time he’d seen his Mother. 

“Oh?” Joseph can feel a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Doesn't he trust your brothers to protect you?”

Benjamin’s brows furrow, as if he could sense something was amiss. “He likes me to stay close by.”

“Really? Why is that?”

The boy hesitates, before speaking reluctantly. “A long time ago, he... he lost his youngest son.”

“Well, I'm sorry to hear that,” Joseph throws a glance at his other brothers, who look remarkably sad about this ‘loss.’ “How did that happen?”

“He was killed.”

“Killed? How?” Joseph’s eyebrows raise up in surprise, feeling a rise of morbid hilarity in his chest. He was just _dying_ to hear the story his brothers had fed to his parents and their youngest brother. 

“By wolves,” Benjamin whispers in a hushed voice, his eyes wide. 

_"It was wolves! There were wolves everywhere. They were coming out of the shadows, and I was surrounded. They were all around me and..."_

_"That's it?"_

_"You woke us for a dream?"_

“Wolves?” Joseph is sure his incredulity is on wide display to everyone in the room. 

“Yes,” Benjamin nods solemnly. “It broke my Father’s heart.”

“Well,” he swallows, “it must have been very hard on your brothers too.” He eyes the rest of them from the corner of his eyes, interested in what their response to that would be. 

“They never speak of it,” Benjamin tells him. 

“Don’t they?” Joseph finally turns towards Judah, who looks down in shame. Was he upset that they were speaking about the brother he sold away? Did he hate Joseph so much that he still couldn’t bear to think about him? 

“Benjamin!” Simeon appears with wonderful timing. The air has started to get a little bit uncomfortable. 

“Simeon!” All his brothers cry in unison, running towards him, leaving Joseph behind to hug their beloved second oldest brother. 

He stares at Simeon, who’s grinning at Benjamin unreservedly, holding him tight. Joseph feels that all too familiar ache rising in his chest again and his face twists as he claps his hands sharply to get their attention. 

“You must be hungry after your journey. Come. You'll be my guests.”

Platters of food are brought out for them and the Butler appears at his side to give him a goblet for the toast. Joseph smiles warmly at the older man. They had become fast friends after he was let out of the prison cell. 

He stares back at his brothers, who are all smiling and happy, and he scowls. 

“A toast,” he calls out, and the music stops. He lifts up his goblet, glaring at them all from the rim. 

“A toast… to brothers!” They all smile, not catching the undercurrent of his words. 

“To brothers,” a loud cheer, as they all lift up their cups in a toast. 

He seethes, sitting on his throne. He stares at his goblet, unable to lift up his eyes to see all his brothers dancing and laughing. Has he grown so apart from them for them to not notice their own brother? The brother they sold away, he reminds himself. Their pampered _half-brother._

Benjamin was their half-brother too. They seemed happy enough around him. He wasn’t a fool, not to see their slight brotherly jostles and the ease and camaraderie they had with each other. He rubs his eyes angrily, trying to scrub away the tears that were quickly welling up there. He feels like a little boy again, hurt, scared, and lonely. Even before he was sold away like a piece of meat, he had been so achingly alone, quickly becoming set apart from the rest of his brothers. But Benjamin looked so much like him, just as soft and naive. Why did they love him? And… and not him?

Joseph suddenly feels a burning resentment towards his younger brother. He glares at the cup so hard that it’s a wonder there are no holes seared into it. Then an idea suddenly blooms across his mind, and he grins slowly. 

* * *

“Stop this!” The whole court can hear Judah’s indignant voice. “You have no right. We've done nothing wrong.”

As Joseph strides down the steps, Asenath appears from the other side. She looks worried, but Joseph wonders darkly if it is for him or them. 

“What's going on?” She asks. “Why have they been arrested? Joseph, what are you doing?”

Oh. For them then. Joseph turns away from her, so she could not see his hurt. “You’ll see,” he just mutters and sweeps past her. 

“I give you food,” he says, stomping down towards his brothers, all looking confused and upset. “I take you into my home. And this is how you repay me, by stealing?”

He reaches down to confront them, glaring right up into their faces. 

Reuben is shaking his head. “We wouldn't steal from you. We'd never do such a thing.”

“Now you insult me by lying,” he says, pulling up a dagger from his scabbard. 

“What?” Reuben gasps, backing away. 

“One of you has stolen from me,” he slashes at his brother’s bag, who startles, gripping the sack of grain tightly. The grain quickly trails down to the floor as they all stare at him in shock. 

_“I've had enough of this stupid game!”_

_“Joseph! Who says this is a game?”_

He slashes at all of the bags one by one, finally reaching the last one. 

Joseph scowls as Benjamin stares back, frightened. He flicks the bag open, staring into the younger boy’s eyes, and then plunges his dagger inside the bag. 

The golden goblet topples onto the ground with a ringing sound with the rest of the grain. 

“The favored one,” Joseph murmurs just as Benjamin shouts, “I didn’t take it!” The younger boy looks at his brothers in askance. 

“Arrest him,” he orders. “For what you have done, you will be punished.” He feels a pang as his younger brother stares at him in ashen, his mouth dropping. 

“Someone put it in there!” Benjamin argues, struggling against the guards that surround him quicker than his brothers could reach him. “Ow,” he gasps as a guard accidentally elbows him roughly, and he throws another desperate glance at the others. 

“Stop!” Judah yells and Joseph swivels around, pointing the dagger at him. Brown eyes look back at him pleadingly. “Take me instead. I beg you!”

“No,” Simeon steps forward. “Take me.”

“Take me,” Reuben says, pushing Simeon behind me. Then they all are clamoring and yelling, “take me! Take me!”

 _Where was all this devotion- this loyalty when I was being taken away!_ Joseph wants to scream back at them. 

Judah speaks up again. “Take any of us, your grace, but, please, let the boy go,” he puts his hands together again. 

Joseph wants to punch him. Instead, he points his dagger out, “You would sacrifice yourselves for a half brother who's spoiled by your father?” He almost laughs at the thought. 

_“Hmph! Look who's here. The miracle child.”_

“Yes,” Judah says, his shoulders droop, but he stares at him with determination. Joseph falters for a second, before turning back to Benjamin. 

“Why?” He grabs Benjamin’s tunic, ignoring his younger brother’s startled expression, “Why should you care if I take him, beat him, make him a slave?”

_You didn’t care about me, after all. What changed? Why is this spoiled little boy any different?_

“Because I will not make my father suffer... again.”

He lets go of Benjamin and stares at Judah. “Again? What do you mean, "again"?”

Judah speaks softly, closing his eyes. “Our brother was not killed by wolves. We were blinded by jealousy and sold him into slavery,” Both he and Benjamin gape at Judah in shock for different reasons. 

“For 20 years, we have lived with that guilt.” Joseph watches Judah rub his forehead tiredly, looking like he had aged a hundred years right before him. The dagger clatters onto the floor from his grasp and Benjamin’s neck snaps to turn and look at him in surprise. Joseph is sure the pain on his face is clear for all to see, but thankfully it is only Benjamin whose staring at him. 

The rest are looking at Judah, who keeps talking. “We can't go back without the boy,” he opens his eyes and looks at Joseph squarely, who feels the familiar warmth welling up in his eyes. “My father could not bear it a second time. And neither could we. If anyone is to be punished, it should be us,” he walks towards Joseph and bows at his feet.

When Joseph looks at his other brothers’, they look down, their expressions somber and full of twenty years of guilt weighing down on them. He stares back at Judah, who’s grasping at the bottom of his tunic and he can’t bear it anymore. He looks away, putting a hand to his forehead, wanting to do nothing more but sob. 

Instead, he turns back and pries the headcloth off his head. “I will not harm any of you or our father,” he says sinking to the floor to kneel next to his eldest brother. He doesn’t dare look at anyone else as he feels the tears fall from his eyes. 

“I am your brother Joseph.”

Judah slowly looks up. “Joseph?” he asks wonderingly. The question echoes all around, all of his brothers gasping and asking the same thing. He can hear Benjamin’s voice echoing the rest, murmuring his name almost reverently. 

Joseph only stares at Judah as they both rise. He realizes his brother is crying and he reaches out to gently wipe the tears away. Did he- did they all truly care? 

Judah keeps staring at him like he has seen a ghost. He grasps Joseph’s shoulders tightly as if Joseph would disappear if he let go. 

“I have so much to tell you, so many questions to ask,” he says to Judah, who keeps crying softly. On impulse, he hugs Judah but then hunching into himself slightly, half-expecting Judah to shove him away. His mind flashes to the last time he hugged Judah, one-sidedly, the older boy’s face harsh and cold as the biting night’s wind. 

But Judah grasps him just as tightly and desperately. “Oh, Joseph,” he sobs, “can you ever forgive us?”

“I already have,” Joseph says into his shoulder, and he realizes the words he speaks are true and he has already forgiven them. He pulls away. “Can you forgive me for thinking I was some miracle from God?”

“But you are a miracle,” Judah says earnestly. “God sent you to save our family and all of Egypt. And you did,” he says, spreading out his arms as the rest of their family surrounds Joseph, nodding in solemn agreement. 

He feels slightly overwhelmed and he looks for his wife, who’s standing off to the side, wiping away tears.

“Asenath?” He calls, and she’s putting an arm to her hip, sniffing and smiling at him in half pride and exasperation. He smiles back at her sheepishly, hoping that meant she’d forgiven him for his rudeness before.

“Please. I'd like you to meet my brothers.” 

She walks towards them. “Welcome,” she grins. “Pleasure to meet you.” Joseph doesn’t notice the glint in her eyes that make all the older brothers gulp in nervousness. 

“You will join me here, all of you, with your families,” Joseph demands, turning back to his brothers. After all, he has a lot of catching up to do. They all nod back at him, shouting yes, hugging him, and then they all are sobbing and laughing again. 

* * *

“Benjamin?”

“Joseph!” Benjamin shouts, his face breaking out into a wide smile at the sight of him. 

Joseph sits down next to his younger brother, watching as the boy puts away his writing utensil to give him all of his attention. 

“I’ve come to apologize,” Joseph starts off immediately, his eyes softening as he drinks in the sight of his brother. It’s still fascinating to him, how alike they look. It also hurts that his younger brother looks so much like their Mother, but he can’t keep his eyes away. 

Benjamin is already shaking his head. “Please. Do not apologize to me. There’s nothing for you to apologize for, Joseph.”

“I treated you terribly,” he says, furrowing his brows. “I directed all my misguided anger at you.”

“Well, I sort of deserve it,” Benjamin shrugs sheepishly.

Joseph gapes at him. “What?”

“Brother,” Benjamin sighs and rests a hand on top of his. “If it means so much to you, then I forgive you, even though there’s nothing to forgive. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t be nearly as forgiving towards our siblings. In fact, I’m still irate at them.”

“What? Why?”

_Shouldn’t you of all people love them?_

He sighs. “They lied and told me you were dead. They didn’t tell me about… what they did to you. And- and if it were me in your position, I think I might have still hated them.”

Joseph stares at Benjamin, who looks at him with sincerity. “They _hurt_ you,” Benjamin emphasizes when he doesn’t speak. 

“It hurt them too,” Joseph says after a few quiet moments. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but they were hurt and they kept hurting after I was sold away, anguished every day with the guilt of what they had done. That was their punishment, I suppose.”

Benjamin looks sad. “I don’t know. I am not as strong as you. I don’t know if I could have forgiven them. I do not understand how you could do so easily.” 

Joseph exhales softly. “I’m done keeping grudges. My wife,” he gives a small smile, “she’s right that anger can make you bitter and blind. Did you know I was in prison?” He says suddenly, and by Benjamin’s widening eyes, he’d assume he didn’t know about that. 

“I was in there for nearly five years,” Joseph says, his fingers trailing the carved table. Benjamin gasps, his expression darkening. 

“I had lost all hope,” he whispers, remembering that moment, where he shouted at the skies, screaming at God, asking _why._ “Then a branch had fallen from the sky, and with it- _life_.”

He looks up at Benjamin, who stares, his eyes going wide. “I watered the plant, took care of it, and soon it was growing alongside me. I think it was one of those moments or all of them together where I had let go of everything and just believed. Believed that I may not have all the answers as to why, but I kept living. I never realized living- _life-_ could be so beautiful. And once I realized that, I could not look at the world in the same way again.”

Joseph watches a tear fall from Benjamin’s eyes and he reaches out to flick it away. He grins a little consciously. “I am aware that I do not make much sense, awakening is rather difficult to put into words. But that is my answer as to why I forgave them. Once I let my bitterness go, I could see there was little reason for me to hold my grudges any longer.” 

His brother’s eyes shine with so much admiration that Joseph wants to look away. He’s pretty sure his cheeks had gotten red. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Benjamin says quietly, not letting go of Joseph’s other hand. 

“Thank you,” Joseph says, just as softly, “for caring.” 

Benjamin gets up then and reaches out to hug Joseph tightly. Joseph hugs him, just as grippingly, and smiles. He can get used to having a little brother around. 

* * *

Joseph’s feet tap the ground for one more second, before blurting out something he’d been wanting to say for the past hour. 

“You are wearing it!”

“What?” Simeon turns towards him, raising one eyebrow in confusion. They’re standing in the pavilion, after a pleasant walk together. 

Joseph’s cheeks redden. “Uh,” he rubs his neck, looking towards the sunset. “You’re wearing the tunic I sewed with Mother for you. I can’t believe it still fits you.”

If Joseph had been facing his brother, he’d have seen that Simeon’s entire expression was suddenly laced with pain.

“I- I- it reminded me of you. Joseph, my brother, I’m so so sorry,” Simeon gasps.

Joseph turns to face him, grasping his older brother by the shoulders. “Simeon, I told you, I have forgiven you.”

“But how could you?” Simeon cries out loud. “How could you when I have not even forgiven myself? I- I was so terrible to you. And I just _stood_ there, watching, as I sold you away. My own brother.”

“Half-brother,” Joseph corrects automatically and then grimaces when Simeon flinches. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean that.”

“You didn’t mean to _say_ that,” Simeon chides. “But you believe it. And that is my fault.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, not knowing what to say. 

Simeon cups Joseph’s cheek. “Don’t apologize to me. I have done nothing to deserve it. Joseph,” he says suddenly, “you mean so much more to me than some half-brother. You’re my little, baby brother, whom I’ve hurt more than anyone could ever fathom.” 

“No, Simeon-”

Simeon cuts him off. “We traded you away for twenty pieces of silver. I will forever hate myself for playing a part in that. And I will never forget how you looked at me at that moment, when it dawned you, that we actually would do such a terrible thing. You looked so anguished and resigned, your heart ripped open by your very own family.”

Joseph doesn’t realize he was crying until Simeon reaches out to gently wipe the tears away. “My little brother, will you allow me to try and repay you for that hurt I caused you until the day I die? It cannot atone for my sins, but I will do my utmost to bridge this gap I have caused to widen between us.”

Joseph tackles him with a hug, burying his teary face into Simeon’s chest. His brother has always been bigger, stronger than him, and now he wraps his arms around Joseph, squeezing him in clear affection. 

“You need not do a thing,” he says, his voice muffled in the soft fabric. He smells of blue water lilies. “I’ve already forgiven you and I know you love me. And,” he laughs, “and if you never gave me away, I wouldn’t have met my beautiful wife or have had Manasseh and Ephraim.”

Simeon chuckles too, but it sounds like he’s crying too. “I am glad you can jest about it. I am indeed thankful to have met the lovely Asenath and your equally wonderful children. And I am moreover glad that they were here for you when we could not.” 

“I am glad you are here now,” Joseph whispers. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed his family until he finally got them back, that constant ache that resided in his heart for years slowly dimming away. 

“I am glad too,” Simeon says back, and they sink into a tight embrace that neither one was quite willing to let go of. 


End file.
